Title: Fond, Noble King - Pembroke's Advice
Author: Triskell (ferngully_at )
Fandom: "Edward II" by Christopher Marlowe

Notes: The piece doesn't have an exact time-frame; it takes place after the murder of Gaveston and Spencer's ascension in the King's favour, sometime during the ensuing Civil War.

Dedicated with fond memories to Terry McGinity of the 2003 Globe Company whose wonderful, understated performance of the Earl of Pembroke endeared the character to me.

~ Fond, Noble King - Pembroke's Advice ~
(c) Triskell, August 2003/February 2004

(Pembroke)

I wonder that grief should pierce a stoic
Man like me, yet with thy painèd breath
thou rendst my heart and tearst my soul
and in thy downfall make me honour thee.

I am amazed, my Lord, seeing thee thus
Enamoured of a man so unlike thy sweet
Gascon minion, so much more cunning
And more dangerously strange.

Is it this Spencer who hath thus inspired
And incensed thee, that thou strikst fear
Into the very heart of man? Art thou the
Lion prophesizèd by your father's blood

That long we sought to find, then tried to
Overrule and now must please and soothe?
Thou seemst as noble as the royal beast
And in thy ranting proud, just in thy ire,

Like fire and heat that, overcome with
Passion, burns itself into thy features
And makes them stern with fast resolve.
Thy nobles sought to rule thee, for the

Better of the realm, and for their own
Advancement, it is true. Yet all thou
Ever wouldst hear were thy Gaveston's
Honey words and serpent tongue.

He had to die though thou wouldst
Agree. It was a base death, worthy of
A traitor - and so he was, to both thy
Country and to thee. Yet well I know

The love thou heldst for him was great
And wonder not that his declining star
Has made thee brave and terrible.
Yet now that thou canst make thy

Nobles bow and stoop, accede to
Every one of thy demands, what
Art thou doing Edward, fond and
Foolish King?

In the hour when thy triumph's near
Thou still wouldst dote on thy lost
Gascon minion and still wouldst seek
To favour men of that same sort,

With streaks of villainy and base contempt.
Thy Spencer's born a soldier's son, but he
Himself is nothing but a courtier-whore would
Seek to please thee in thy murdered lover's stead.

'Tis bravely done, my Lord, that thou dost
trust thy crown to such another, for with such
A minion, such a Spencer by a thy side
Thou wilt not win, thou must be overthrown.

Thy country cries for all thy sins,
Thy pride and scorn hath punished
Thy own land and doth destroy the
Spirit of its English brotherhood.

Then cast aside the author of thy doom,
Wean thy fond heart from Spencer,
Honour thy Queen and keep thy nobles
Close - for doing as thy father did

Thou canst not fail or go astray
And as the King of England stay.